Here Among the Living
by Sickle Sword
Summary: After Vaya Con leos Piper thinks of life, her choices and how saying goodbye is not always the same as letting go.


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**HERE AMONG THE LIVING**

**Because saying goodbye is not the same as letting go **

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A _**Vaya Con Leos**_ aftermath, there are spoilers here; beware! Also, spoilers for all previous seasons.

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Piper knew when she became a witch that there would be sacrifices to make. She thought that she would be ready for them. She thought she'd be strong. A Hallowell to the bone.

She was wrong.

With each passing year she could feel the necessity to save the world fading bit by bit, rage and despair taking the place of the former determination. First the death of Prue, which tore her family and heart apart, then Cole came and destroyed what was left of it for a while, all the troubles the Elders put her and Leo through, and then being strong for Wyatt an then Chris and then everything else has happened and her desire for normal life has long ago stopped being a wish, it is now a need so strong. To be able to stop this insane descent- and to not care anymore that she's losing.

She is on the carousel. The world swirls away beside her and worries fly ahead, unable to catch her. Closes her eyes- and they're gone. Colors dim and strangers lose their faces. It's nicer that way, to think of them in that manner. Like strangers. No more. No less. Their eyes are invisible in the velocity and she can't see their souls. She shouldn't care whether they are innocent or evil, or just ordinary people. Like she wishes she could be, wishing it so much that it hurts. Like she cannot be. And their faces are happy, there are no children crying in the blur. The wind cannot catch her, life cannot catch her. It is perfect up here, and she wishes she could stay like this forever.

And if the world is a bit fuzzy around the edges she can blame it on the weather or the speed. It's not because of the tears that are choking her throat and begging to let out. She doesn't let them out. Because this is a happy place, here among the living, tears do no dwell here. And crying means giving up. Crying means that he died.  
And she's too young to be a widow. And he already died once, before she met him, though he swore that he hasn't _really_ lived till he met her.

She wants to cry. Wants to let go. Because he was.. . is!. . . her husband. And that's what people do when thy lose those they love, don't they?

There are some children watching her, calling her to get down. It's their time to play, they plead. It's not fair. The carousel is public. It belongs to everyone. She looks at their blurred faces, their nonexistent expressions, and wants to scream. Scream, because it's only because of her that they actually have that stupid carousel. That it's thanks to her and her sisters and generations of Hallowells yet to come and that have already been that their parents and everyone they know, and even themselves, are alive. She deserves a little while more here, to be away from everything. Detached. To be able to forget.  
Only, she's not forgetting. She can't. And they can't see how much she needs to be right here right now, hiding from the world that owes her that much. But how can they when she's not crying? How can they know all of that when she herself doesn't?

And she wishes to engrave her shame on a leaf, on her skin, leave a mark on the world. But if the success is for the whole world to see, all failures are private. For what will the world do with her burden of woes? All the shames are private; all sins are hers to carry. She will carry them alone as a punishment for unforgivable crime.

"Mommy!" One of them is crying and she's the center of attention again. The place she never seemed to be able to leave. She wants to seal her ears to their angry murmurs, to their parents' glares, and to freeze time and stay here forever. Time doesn't mean much when one has the power to manipulate it, only, she learnt that time does not really matter. When the freeze will wear off, even days from now, or months or years, Leo will still be gone. It will still hurt.

So she nods in acknowledgment, awakening from the castle of ice wherein she was trapped and tries to slow the damn thing down.

It's funny how one's perspective can be changed so easily, she thinks. For a moment this is not her who is slowing down, but the world fastens, trying to catch her, its paws gripping her shoulders raw, and she panics. She can't let the world have her. She can't. She's not ready for that yet. She thought she was; but when did she really know anything about things?

There are shrieks in the background but it is amazing how apathy can feel so good. Apathy, what a strange word. The feeling that is left after all other emotions are gone. Only, this isn't emptiness that fills her. Otherwise she would have called it emptiness. No, it's neither relief nor acceptances, peace nor fear. This is a comfortable void, the chasm to which all emotions go. The mix of the entire emotions combined, and none of them at all. And in that blissful state- this is too easy not to give a damn.

She knows she has responsibilities. The boys need to be fed, the club to be managed and the world has to be saved on a daily basis, in one event in particular. Otherwise, she won't get Leo back, for he is a hostage, the insurance for their cooperation. Apparently forces above have decided that making the world a better place wasn't motivation enough anymore. A new one has to be sought. One that will break her apart, and from the pieces build the world anew.  
And she can't help but to feel guilty. So very guilty. Because if saving the world was enough, if they haven't thought that she wanted life with Leo more than she wanted to save the future- Leo would have been with her now. For what her love and life to Leo has done to him but harm?  
By loving her he lost his calling, by marrying her he lost the respect of his friends and mentors, by giving her a son he lost his way, and with another one- his wings. And now he will lose his life because he knew her, how fair is that? He lost himself in the way of loving her, and she lost the man she fell in love with and the world lost someone she was sure would only gain from. _This_ is her destiny, perhaps. Not to save the world, but to shatter it. For how any alternative can be right?

"Mom?" there's a voice penetrating the fortress she built around herself, that single word- _mom_- is breaking her apart. Her boys need her. Soon they won't need to, but now- they still do. So she opens her eyes- funny, she doesn't remember closing them- and sees a figure she thought would never see again. Well, at least not for the next 20 years.

"Chris?"

"Hi." Her boy smiles to her with a pair of sparkling, frightened eyes, and she can see what he's afraid of- that she's going nuts.  
She wants to reassure him that she's ok, she's not crazy, but she can't. She doesn't know if that's the truth anymore. He's dead. Her dear dear son is supposed to be dead. Where his father should be as well temporarily, where Prue and mom are. . . where she should belong by right but was rejected.

"Are you really here?" She's trying to tear her eyes away from him and see the world around her, to see how it faces him, or ignores him, or faces her or ignores her, but cannot. Her mind is racing, can't let go of his sight and she almost laughs. Future Chris. From all the people in the world that could come to help her in her troubled hour, her whacko mind conjured her dead son. Whom she failed miserably. Why not Leo, why not Prue?

"Sort of. I don't think you can pinch my cheek, though, if that's what you're planning."  
She smiles. She doesn't want to, but her nerves reject the desperate signals her mind is sending, probably laughing at her as well for her inability to control everything, even her body; or mocking her for trying to do so in the first place.

She sends a shaky hand to hug him. "I can't believe you're here- - did the Elders sent you. . or.. .?" she doesn't finish the thought. It may be pathetic but she always believed in not jinxing luck. Not that it ever helped her, really, but a person allows to have his neurosis. And if not saying out loud that she fears for her mental health makes her feel better, why shouldn't she do it?

"I don't know, really. A little of both, I think. Does it matter?"

"No." And she's amazed to discover that this is the truth. What difference does it make? He's here now and Leo isn't and she is, only Leo is here somehow, she just knows so. And with the same clarity she knows she isn't really here. The light's are on, but nobody's home.

"Though quite frankly, mom,you are starting to scare me. And you know I'm not easily spooked."

"Yeah, well. I kindda scare myself." What is it about figments of imagination that makes honesty easier, she wonders.

"So, mind telling me what this is all about?"

Her anger flares. "Aren't you supposed as my subconscious and everything to know it already?" and it doesn't matter that she knows she's pissed at the wrong person. It doesn't matter that she's not angry anymore, or scared. Just is, and maybe that's what scares her the most.

"Yeah, well," he merely shrugs, ignoring her outburst as if it was not a big deal. And she's thankful for that, beyond everything that he will ever know. "Talking is therapeutic."

She snores her amusement. Wonder who told him that. "Look who's talking."

"Hey- subconscious here! Can't take responsibility for what the real me did. Or will do? These things are confusing as hell."

"Hell. Speaking of hell. . . "

"Were we?"

"Of course we were!" she shouts and doesn't even know why anymore. Maybe they were. Maybe they weren't. But Hell, it scares her. Because sometimes she is scared that Hell is all that awaits her.

"You can't really believe that." He's saying in a soft voice and she can't help but to notice that there's something awfully narcissistic about telling herself that she doesn't belong in Hell.

"Maybe not." She sighs. It would be easier if she could believe that, though. She bets that there's not a world that needs saving _there_ And then she sighs again because she feels like it's appropriate, if they was a manners- manualabout these sorts of things, naturally. "So why are you here, again?"

"What?"

"Why are _you_ here?" She clarifies and there's something liberating about snarking with herself. Maybe she **is** going psycho.

"You mean, other that the fact that talking to Leo about his death would be too weird and talking to your grandma about your uncertainty whether to save the world or not will lead to your shunning from the family tree and me growing up as an orphan?"

"Not funny." She grumbles though she has to admit it a little bit is. "But will it really be that bad?" she lets her worry slip and there's something really comfortable with talking to one's self about these things because you don't need to clarify about what you're talking about. And then to his fine demonstration of ironic lift of eyebrows she adds: "fine, I guess I can see your point."

Also, there's something awfully unproductive about bantering with one's self as the figment as well as her know that she doesn't really mean that. So she has a tendency for drama, so?

"So just to be straight on the record- please tell me what happened."

She starts to tell a lame joke about records and their necessity in today's functional household when she finds herself laying her heart out instead. She tells him about the Angle of Death, and one has admit the rather ironic use of the word angel, of her meeting with the Avatar and the Elder and the Angel of Destiny and how she lost Leo in the end. And even when she doesn't have anything else to say, she opens and closes her mouth rapidly, probably looking like a fool. Probably looking like a fish. But for the life of her, she cannot stop.

"He doesn't blame you, you know." Her dear dead son looks at her, and she can hear the underlined '_I don't blame you_'. She knows it should make her feel better, but it's just not enough. She knows her own son and husband. They are too good people to hold grudge, to make her feel worse. But in fact this _is_ her fault. She should have done something to save them, the both of them, to dedicate her whole life to save them. This is how the pact supposed to go, isn't it- to better and worse. Not till it's too hard. She was supposed to try harder. She was supposed to- - -

"No! This is not your place to die for us. Neither of us wants that."

"But I'm your _mother_! I'm his _wife_! I'm a Charmed One, damn it. One of the most powerful witches in the world. If I can't save those I love then what's the point of everything? And I swear that if you quote 'for the greater good' line on me I will kick your infinite-wisdom ass for eternity."

He just smiles. There's something unnerving about that, and she has a sudden urge to scrunch her nose. Go figure. At last he says: "But this is the point, isn't it? This is not about what you want. The world needs you alive, your sisters need you alive, and quite frankly I need you alive so I'd know that I haven't died for nothing, and Leo to keep fighting." And she has to admit that it's one messed up subconscious she's got in her, because she sure is the only one who would make herself feeling guilty for feeling guilty in the first place.

"So maybe I want to be self-centered for once and to grieve for the loss of my husband. Is that too much to ask?"

He looks at her straight in the eyes calmly. "Yes. I'm sorry but it is. The world falls apart outside. People are getting killed. And if you really want Leo back, if you really meant all these pretty remarks about fighting for him - then fight. Save the world. Not for the world, even, but for him. For both of you. Heck, save it for me. You owe me that much!"

She wants to hug her little boy, to embrace him to her arms and to never let go. She wishes to inhale him and save his essence forever, ration on the feeling, let it last for the longest. But she knows he's right. And that makes it worse. Because that what got her into this mess in the first place- egoism. If she cared about the world as much as Destiny wanted her to, Leo would have stayed. If she hadn't been so pigheaded, she would have seen Chris was her son. Yet hindsight is a wonderful things, especially when time travel is possible but too risky to try and she always feels as if she abandoned her son by not coming back to save him. She's a horrible mother, a terrible wife and even worse world savior. But Chris is right. This has nothing to do with her being a failure. This is all about a great bunch of other people.

"I understand." She cries in pain." But aren't I allowed having one day of mourning? Just one day of not being strong, of letting go?"

"No, I wish I could give you that but no. I'm sorry." He says and then wipes her tears dry. "Because if you sink into depression, this time you will never get out." Just like that, in that moment, her little boy looks so much like his father that it hurts. So much like Prue and Paige and Phoebe and herself. He is the future. He is everything her family could be. She would save the future for him. She would save the world for his father. And the world, a scrawny ungrateful thing that it is, can go blow itself up afterwards for all she cares. This was never about the world. This was never about her.  
This is why Chris came. To remind her that she has family that counts on her to save them. So she would be strong for them and will not let go as long as they need her to.

She stops the carousel and is amazed to discover that all light has already dimmed and only shadows now creep, only her. But she's not afraid, for what else can the world take from her without risking her not saving it?

She walks home, slowly and methodologically, as if every step counts. And maybe it is.

"Are you alright, honey?" Phoebe asks, and Piper only smiles.

If her sister had known why, she would have never left her alone.


End file.
